


I like you, say it back

by RainbowsandSparkles



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, M/M, baz is in love with simon, late to the party, quarantine fic, simons an idiot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:42:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26923051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainbowsandSparkles/pseuds/RainbowsandSparkles
Summary: There's a fun magical disease about and Watford is made to quarantine. Simon is loosing his shit not having anyone to talk to and Baz the ever kind soul hatches a plan to help Simon out.friendship and texting ensues.
Relationships: Keris/Trixie (Simon Snow), Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 10
Kudos: 35





	1. It's quaranTIME for a plan

**Author's Note:**

> I started this at the beginning of lockdown and she's still not done. I'm lowkey a mess. Mainly posting this to receive validation and thus hopefully find a will to go on writing it.  
> also the title is from the song sweet tooth by cavetown- yall should listen if you want a good time. 
> 
> and yes, this is utter trash

**Baz:**

Snow’s being insufferable again. Git. It’s like he thinks that just because I ignore him, I can’t see him.

It’s been hell ever since quarantine started. We haven’t been able to leave our rooms for weeks and its finally getting to me. I sneak out, of course, in the dead of night to eat but even I don’t allow myself anymore freedom than that. I’m pretty sure I can’t get sick, but God forbid I bring anything back and get Snow sick. Mind you, at this point, maybe I wouldn’t mind a Snow free life. He’s been absolutely restless since we’ve been trapped here, and he’s taken to viciously exercising which makes him all hot and sweaty much to my dismay. It’s so much harder to not stare at him when he’s panting and glistening and _shirtless._ I just want to lick him. Maybe bite him (only a little). And he’s been mumbling like there’s no tomorrow. Constantly. All the bloody time. He doesn’t have a phone, so he’s got no way of contacting his beloved Bunce and Wellbelove and all his thoughts just _have_ to go somewhere apparently. I thought by now Bunce could have found a way to contact him but alas she’s yet to prevail. Actually she did possess a bird once but that was horrifying for everyone involved (including the bird) and I made her swear she wouldn’t do it again. I am regretting that now though- Snow’s been inconsolable since and although I love making the git miserable, I hate seeing him miserable.

I wish he’d talk to me. I wish I could be enough. But, alas, Snow clearly hasn’t gone so mad that he’d consider me good company. Not that I blame him. It is my fault really- I pushed him away (as per usual)- he tried talking to me in the first week of lockdown, but I shut that down immediately. Being trapped in a room with him does not mean that we need to suddenly start being friendly. I have plenty of friends, I don’t need another one, especially one that will only talk to me when it’s convenient for him. I may be hopelessly in love with the wanker, but I still have my pride (at least I did). He hasn’t bothered since- clearly came to his senses.

I’m considering letting him use my phone (for my own benefit obviously). I only really use it to scroll through memes and read. Niall and Dev have been texting but they’re bigger disasters than I am, and I can only deal with so much gay drama at one time. At least I know I have no chance with the love of my life; they’re constantly making heart eyes at each other- even virtually- and they still can’t see that they’re in love. It’s sickening. I need a break and I have Bunce’s phone number so it’s not like it’s impossible. And it would make him happy. That’s the biggest reason if I’m being honest with myself. It won’t make him love me, but it might make him hate me less and that’s still a win in my books.

I can’t just come out and say it though: ‘ _hey Snow do you want to use my phone to talk to your friends and stop being miserable’_ no, I’d look like an imbecile. It needs to be his idea. Maybe I could message Bunce and leave my phone somewhere he would find it with Bunce’s response on the screen. Knowing him he’s just waiting for an opportunity to catch me out- there’s no way he’d _not_ check my phone if it was just _lying_ there. It’s time to use his paranoia and deep quest to expose me as the awful blood-sucking vampire I am to my advantage. Finally, Snow’s about to get something right for once- I really am plotting.

The plan is simple: waft my phone about the place making it obnoxiously obvious I have one, remain secretive, get under his skin, make him need to know what’s on it, go have a shower and leave my phone on the bed enticing him in like a glistening plate of freshly baked scones. If Snow hasn’t changed overnight into less of an invasive bastard (he hasn’t) then within the first five minutes he’ll have taken the bait, grabbed my phone, and figured out the super hard, super- secret password (it’s my birthday, any imbecile could guess it) (Fiona would string me up if she knew how weak it was. _What if the Mage takes your phone, Baz._ As if that old artichoke knows how to use a phone). It’s perfect.

What could go wrong?

It’s all going to plan; I can feel Snow’s magic coiling around me- he’s just about ready to go off. Perfect. I make a big show of getting up, wait until I can feel his gaze practically penetrate the back of my neck before grabbing my extra fancy shower bits I keep in our room (I leave it in my wardrobe so he doesn’t waste it) (I know he’s stolen my shampoo before) (vampires have a strong sense of smell you know). I know he knows exactly how long my extended routine takes (the thought thrills me) so I don’t worry about him refraining from the fear of being caught.

I take my time in the shower- letting myself indulge in the warm spray for a few minutes longer than I usually would (just to give him a little longer to fuck about)- but not too long that he gets suspicious (don’t want him to get the wrong end of the stick after all) (this could backfire in more ways than one). Finally, after a good 45 minutes, I drag myself from the warm, delightful steam and into our cold, miserable room.

My phones moved. Good. I can tell he’s tried his very best to put it back exactly where I left it- anyone who wasn’t looking out for the slightest of shifts wouldn’t have noticed- unfortunately he lacks my impeccable memory. Still, I’m impressed. It’s only the tiniest fraction to the left of its original placement- if Snow put his mind to it, he could really become a good spy. Mind you, maybe he already is. Fiona would say so anyway. Simon Snow: spy for the mage.

I see Snow take a quick anxious glance in my direction as I pick up my phone. He’s not subtle.

It’s timed out.

Well that’s not how I imagined this backfiring. I swear Snow would have had a catalogue of all my passwords. Of course, I couldn’t rely on Snow getting the plan right. Crowley, do I have to spell it out for him. Now I have to come up with a _whole_ other plan to get this idiot to stop being so lonely. 

**Simon:**

If you’d have asked me in fifth year what Baz’s phone password was, I could have rattled the numbers off faster than I could have devoured a sour cherry scone. Pretty fucking fast. But after that disastrous night I got locked out and nearly froze to death, Penny made me promise to stop fixating so much on him and I tried (as hard as bloody possible) to purge as much of him from my memory as I could (pretty difficult when I live with the man I’m trying not to think about).

His passcode was, surprisingly, one of the first things to go. It got demoted to my ‘list of things I try not to think about’ and not too long after that it disappeared from any list all together. There’s not much room in my head for that many numbers and for some reason Baz’s exact height was much more important to remember (reasons I don’t think about). Wish I hadn’t bloody listened to Penny now.

I hadn’t snooped in so long (I’d been good), but I’m _bored,_ and Baz looked so bloody _interested_ in his phone and I wanted some entertainment. Sue me. I just wanted a peak but then-

Penny had texted. _Penny._ I mean what was I supposed to do, not talk to her?

Stupid Baz and his stupid passcode. Why was he texting Penny anyway? Just to taunt me? I have to get that phone. I don’t think I can go another week without talking to her.

Christ, I’d talk to Baz at this point- if he wasn’t trying so Goddamn hard to avoid me. You’d think it would be impossible to avoid someone you were stuck in the same room with and yet, somehow, he manages it. I didn’t really understand before how much he hated me; now it’s abundantly clear. Even if I was the last person in the world, nay the entire solar system, he wouldn’t want anything to do with me.

I have to get that phone; it’s my only chance at not going insane.

**Baz:**

Snow’s been burning holes in my head with his eyeballs. I can’t move a single step without his eyes trailing after me. It’s exhausting- the temptation to turn around and say ‘like what you see’ with a seductive wink is strong- I can’t breathe in my own skin (I can’t breathe altogether but this is different).

His magic is thick too. I feel like I’m choking. I want to calm him down- tell him “breathe, Snow, it’s okay”- but I can’t bloody well do that without revealing I don’t hate him (quite the opposite). This plan won’t work if he thinks I don’t despise the very earth he walks on.

He’s doing crunches now- keeping his eyes tracked on me as goes up and down, up and down, he looks like one of those optical illusions where no matter which way you turn its _always looking at you_ (It’s kind of creepy actually)- I’m sweating, not only from the mouth- watering sight, but from having so much of his undivided attention. I want him looking at me, always, but not like this; not like I’m a puzzle he can’t solve and wants to throw against the wall immediately (and not in the good way).

“I feel bad for people who have their birthdays now,” I say. I’m ashamed to admit that it’s taken me a solid day to come up with this banger of an opening sentence. “I certainly wouldn’t want to celebrate my birthday with just you.” That’s a lie I’d want nothing more than for him to be there.

He looks like a goldfish- mouth popping open and closed- idiot. Staring. Take the bait, Snow. Come on.

“Good job mines in February. 24th you know.” God this is like pulling teeth. Is this what a conversation with me is like? I feel sorry for anyone who’s ever spoken to me and immediately feel the urge to write a ten page apology to give to anyone who’s ever tried (by email of course). I don’t think I’ve ever seen Snow look more confused which I did not think was possible (I think confused is just his resting face).

He opens his mouth again and I think, yes finally, talk you miraculous beast, then closes it. Stops. Gets up and walks, no _storms,_ into the bathroom.

Well that went better than expected.

**Simon:**

I don’t know why I did that.

Finally, _finally,_ Baz speaks to me after weeks of waiting and wanting and I fucking bail. What the hell is wrong with me. I just panicked. I got what I wanted, and I panicked.

Why now? What’s he plotting?

He loathes me, he’s done nothing but ignore me for weeks and now just out of the blue he starts having a civil conversation with me? There’s got to be ulterior motives. Baz isn’t friendly.

But he spoke to Penny.

He must be trying to taunt me. It’s working.

I can feel my magic bubble up; I hate that he has this power over me. The bathrooms slowly filling with smoke and I know Baz can feel it. I hate that he knows he’s got to me. I hate being this weak.

And what the fuck was all that with birthdays? Baz has never once mentioned his birthday to me before I had to find it out from other people. Why now? Wh-

_Oh._ Oh shit. That’s it! His password- of course- how could I be so stupid?

I need that phone.

**Baz:**

Snow’s magic floods from the bathroom. I hate that I have this effect on him. I hate that me trying to have a civil conversation leads to _this_. It’s like my words are daggers just waiting to hurt him. As if I ever would. Not in any way that matters.

Then. Suddenly. It’s gone again, almost like it was never there to begin with. I often wonder- at times like this (when he’s managed to calm down rather than go off)- where it goes. Is he just built of magic? Is there a bottomless well inside of him that’s always overflowing? Where’s the room? I wonder what it’s like to never fear running out. I wonder if Simon wishes he would run out- just sometimes, not forever- just to know he can.

He runs out now (not of magic but out the bathroom door). He looks wild and unkempt- not that he looks more presentable usually- and he looks at me with a certain ferocity I haven’t seen in a long time. I think he’s panting. What the fuck did he do in that bathroom?

**Simon:**

I should probably stop staring at Baz. I’ve been good at that recently; not staring at him. But now I can’t seem to tear my eyes away. And he’s staring right back- mouth as open as his eyes (and he calls me a mouth breather)- we’re having a weird stand- off where no one’s moving and no one’s saying anything and I don’t want to move or break eye contact first because I don’t want to loose this weird game that neither of us started or signed up for but are in.

I guess that’s what its always been like with Baz. Both of us in a competition that neither of us started (or meant to start) but neither of us backing down because we don’t want to lose.

He breaks first (after what could have easily been five minutes) and I congratulate myself on winning before I remember I don’t know what I’ve won.

“You alright Snow?” he’s not looking at me. I’m certain Baz is plotting now. This is second time today he’s been nice to me _and_ he never asks me how I am. Maybe he’s ill. What are the symptoms of that disease again?

I nod.

He nods.

Then he moves back to his bed, back to his book, and is silent. The spell is broken, and I find myself more miserable than before.

Its two am before Baz leaves to hunt. I should probably be more worried that its basically confirmed that he’s a vampire (there’s no way he’d risk leaving the room unless he had to) but since lockdowns happened I cant find it in myself to be too concerned. As long as he’s hunting, he’s not eating me. And it gives me a few moments to myself.

I haven’t been following Baz to the catacombs like I usually do so I’ve actually gotten a better sleep schedule (miracles do happen) which just made it harder to stay up tonight. Needs must though.

He’s left his phone, I know he has, I can see it light up on his bed from where he gets _another_ message (I would never have guessed that Baz has so many friends) and I waste no time in crossing the space between our beds and finally holding that prized item in my hands again.

I try 24397 and it works first time. I might cry from joy. It only now occurs to me that I’m holding Baz Pitch’s phone. My mortal enemy’s- Baz Pitch- phone. I could find out so much shit about him; I bet he’s got all sorts of conversations with his family talking about all the dark and evil things they do. And yet-

I don’t care. I don’t care if Baz Pitch (my mortal enemy) has plans on this phone to kill me tomorrow or overthrow the Mage that I could send to the Coven and take him down once and for all- I just want to talk to Penny.

**‘Penny’** I type **‘It’s Simon.’**

I don’t even have time to ponder if she’s awake before her responses fly through.

**Simon!!!!**

**What the hell are you doing with Baz’s phone**

**Actually, I don’t care.**

**How are you?**

**Do you need help?**

**Whats going on???**

**_I’m okay!_ **

**_I miss you_ **

**_I think Baz has gone crazy_** I decide to tell her

**Are you in danger?**

**I can get you if you need**

Of course, Penny’s ready to break all rules and laws to save me. It’s one of the reasons I love her- she’ll go against everything and everyone to make sure I’m safe, no ones ever done that for me before her.

**_I’m fine! He’s just been nice to me twice and I’m convinced he’s plotting._ **

**_Are you okay?_ **

**_Is Trixie insufferable?_ **

****

**I’m okay**

**Trixies barable. We may have slightly bonded during this time.**

**Still too much fucking pixie dust everywhere though.**

I laugh for the first time since this shit happened. I can’t believe I’ve survived this long without her.

We talk until I know Baz will be walking right up the stairs (I’m so thankful he’s a man of routine) and I bid Penny a rather emotional goodbye, throw his phone back where I found it and jump into bed. He walks into the room not ten seconds later.

When I’m not ripped from my bed I’m sure I’ve gotten away with it. Baz is none the wiser and I can sleep happy tonight.

**Baz:**

Thank fucking God.


	2. the beginning of something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> short boi- simon and baz start messaging each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is not very good but we move.

**Simon:**

After that night, Baz starts leaving his phone around more and I get to talk to Penny nearly every day. I’m starting to think he’s doing it on purpose but maybe I was just never looking for it before. He wouldn’t be that nice. Her messages are left unopened too as if left for me. Weird. Regardless, I haven’t brought it up and neither has he.

But I think maybe I should thank him. He might ignore it- knowing him he will- but I think it’s only right to thank him. He got me out of my funk. Or maybe he didn’t. Maybe he is just being more careless. I think it’s worth potentially looking like a colossal prick though if it means Baz gets the thanks he deserves. Quarantine really has changed me. Doing it face to face though would be too out of character even for the fever dream version of myself quarantine has created.

The next time I find myself on Baz’s phone I open the notes page. There’re 342 notes on his phone and I can’t say I’m surprised the prick always seems to have thoughts running through his mind. Somehow, I have no will to go looking through his notes (it’s probably all study notes anyway and I have had enough lessons from the actual teachers I don’t need Baz’s either) and press the square in the top right corner that opens up a fresh clean page. So much blank space; so much I could say. _You’re a good person_ I could say _you pretend you’re not but you are. You can’t hide from me. I don’t hate you_ I could say _I don’t think you hate me either. I hope you don’t anyway._

 _Thank you_ I do say. I nearly leave it at that, I’m not that good with words, Baz would be the first to say so; ‘use your words Snow’ he would say. _For everything_ I add.

Then I hear the bathroom door handle jingle and I throw Baz’s phone back onto his desk and myself onto my bed. Cool as a cucumber. He exits, barely spares me a glance, retrieves his phone and sits across from me on his own bed. My heart is pounding in my chest. Will he turn around disgusted I’ve even tried to contact him? Will he turn around smile on his lips and start talking to me as if there was never anything other than friendship between us?

He does neither. He doesn’t even react. Why does that make my heart sink more than the other two options? There’s no way he could have missed it. This is more than plain rejection: this is dismissal.

I turn away, facing the wall, I can’t bear to look in his direction any longer.

**Baz:**

My heart hasn’t stopped pounding. It’s been going at it like a feral dog ever since I saw the message. I keep checking every five minutes to make sure I haven’t hallucinated the words. _Thank you for everything._ I’m so glad Simon is facing the other way so he can’t see me have this meltdown. I haven’t moved, my breathing is far too heavily to be considered normal, face as red as it can get with the little blood I’ve drank over the past few days.

Do I reply to him?

Do I dare cross that barrier?

God, I want to. Do I dare let my heart get the better of me? Well, if not in quarantine then when?

 _You’re welcome._ I type out then immediately erase. I can’t be that civil. Simon would think I’ve got a disease. I need to play it cool; I need to think he has absolutely no power over me. He can’t know the way he makes my heart skip.

I’m ashamed to admit how long it takes for me to come up with a reply (why is it so much easier to his face?) I keep typing and erasing and retyping until _finally_ I settle.

 _No idea what you’re talking about, Snow._ Perfect. Just aloof enough to seem disinterested yet not too much that it pushes him away and he never attempts this again.

I want him to attempt this again. I want to have this. Can I let myself have this?

**Simon:**

Baz always dresses like he’s five minutes away from attending a funeral. I’d hate it but he looks dashing- are you allowed to look that good at a funeral? The attentions meant to be on the dead guy, right? I’m pretty sure if Baz were there, I wouldn’t be able to focus on anything but him. God, he’s annoying.

Maybe he looks diabolical in anything else, like a green jacket would bring out the bags under his eyes (black too) or a dash of brown God forbid would sink his skin. Maybe he wears black so his stormy eyes stand out- maybe that’s how he controls people. Oh my God maybe he’s controlling me. I always find myself getting lost in them maybe that’s why I can’t think straight these days. He’s planning something awful beyond my imagination and he’s making my mind foggy so I can’t fight back. Well, he should have tried harder if he wanted to best me. Little does he know I’m one step ahead of him.

Keep your friends close, keep your enemies closer.

That’s why I write a reply.

**Baz:**

ASHUAFSOOSFHGUOSDHIFUE SIMONS MESSAGED! I REPEAT SIMONS MESSAGED. THIS IS NOT A DRILL!!!!!

**Simon:**

God I’m so lame.

**Baz:**

OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD

**Simon:**

He’s never going to care.

**Baz:**

HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT. WHAT DO I DO??? WHAT DO I SAY????

I take a cold shower to calm down.

**So is black your favourite colour?**

Wow, I’m pathetic. Weird though I have no idea where that came from.

**No, why?** I write back.

I don’t know where he’s got that idea from. Blue is my favourite colour, because of the sky of course (definitely no other reason), but I won’t tell him that.

He writes back that same day and I can’t hide the way my heart flutters with excitement at the fact Simon fucking Snow is actually having a conversation with me.

**You just wear a lot of black I assumed you must like it a lot**

It’s embarrassing the way my heart drops knowing he notices what I’m wearing, _you literally live with him you idiot of course he notices what you’re wearing._ I am insulted though I don’t just wear black; right now I’m donning an off- white sweater _and_ dark grey jogging bottoms. I have variety.

And besides black looks cool (and sexy).

I don’t tell him that.

**I do not wear just black.**


End file.
